Artists describing how their work is an expression of their spirituality

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Paula, dream consultant for PEOPLE Country Magazine, is a book coach, and dream and tarot intuitive.

You work in several medium(s). Can you tell me more about how you create your art?

For years, I worked in both fiber and in words. In fact, my MFA is in weaving and writing with the focus of fantasy.

I’ve been a professional weaver since 1993 or thereabouts. At first, I sold at local and regional craft shows. Then I started doing wholesale craft shows, and sold my work to shops, galleries and boutiques across the country. I finally stopped doing the shows in 2007, but continued to weave for a limited number of retail clients and for a designer from Maryland. I still have several looms and a wall full of rayon chenille yarns.

When I was pursuing my MFA, I was weaving images in a technique called doubleweave pickup that allowed me to create representational images. Later, when I was selling both retail and wholesale, I was weaving wearables and throws. I stopped doing the images. They weren’t selling enough and they were incredibly time-consuming (an inch per hour).

Most of my weaving starts with color and whether I am weaving images or wearables, the color has to sing to me—and to my clients. From there, the work is intuitive, just responding to what feels right about image or color proportions.

As for the words, I’ve been writing and telling stories since I was old enough to spell and read. In college, I majored in Creative Writing. I’ve written freelance articles for both print and online magazines. And I’ve completed three manuscripts—two young adult fantasies and one adult fantasy romance.

The first two stories evolved page by page, totally seat of the pants with a lot of rewriting afterwards. This last manuscript which is starting to make the rounds of agents and editors, I wrote intuitively through probably half and then turned to scene cards and some general plotting for the rest. Even with the planning though, I am listening with at least one ear to the Muse.

At what point in your life did you start thinking of yourself as an artist?

I think I’ve always identified myself as a writer. The art weaving was a surprise to me, that I could create interesting images by just staying in conversation with the weaving. I really call myself a writer or weaver rather than an artist.

How would you describe your spirituality?

My spirituality is eclectic, earth-based and fluid. I consider myself a practical mystic.

How does your spirituality find expression in your art?

My themes in my fiction writing have to do with transformation, the power of love to transform and redeem. The stories tend to reflect mythic ideas. I also have three large image weavings that are titled Transformation I, II, and III.

And out of both weaving and words came my book Weaving a Woman’s Life: Spiritual Lessons from the Loom.Because while my spirituality finds expression in my work, my work also teaches me many spiritual lessons.

How do you connect with divine flow when you are creating?

So, in 1984 my mother, who was approaching 53, was dying of breast cancer. At the time, I lived about 8 hours away from her and had three small boys who needed my attention. A few months before her death, I put my youngest, about 18 months old, in the car and headed to my mom’s. I also took my small table loom with me on which I had started another large double weave pickup piece. While trying to fix foods my mother could easily swallow, and caring for my son, I also took time to work on the weaving. I think I finished about one or two inches of the bottom.

A month or so later, my mom, whom I adored and who was my primo cheerleader, died. I stopped weaving but kept thinking about what I would weave.

Two previous large pieces had towers as their central image, towers with roots, and flames going up the center. In my mind’s eye, this next piece would show the tower uprooted on the left side. I saw it clearly.

Still not weaving, I managed to sprain my left ankle twice within a period of three months while wearing a pair of my mother’s shoes.

Finally, about nine months after her death, I returned to the weaving. I didn’t weave the uprooted tower since I already had most of the roots done, but I kept weaving, deciding I wanted steps winding up around the outside of the tower. The image in my mind now, was of a tower that totally disintegrated by the time I reached the top of the piece.

Still, I stayed with the weaving and noticed that the profile of the steps that were disintegrating around the tower had a profile of breasts, breasts disintegrating. Painful, but I stayed with it.

As the tower fell away and the steps were small and rickety, instead of totally disintegrating they continued up into the sky, ending just a space or breath away from a door. This was a total surprise to me, not what I had envisioned earlier.

By the time I finished that piece and took it off the loom, I had processed my loss and my grief. It wasn’t gone, for sure. But there, in 5/2 cotton threads, was an affirmation of my mother’s life and journey—and my own.

I titled the piece, “Transformation III: My Mother’s Journey.”

Years later, I submitted it to be exhibited at the Pittsburgh Three Rivers Arts Festival, a place where my mother had once exhibited a print of her own. My piece was accepted. Life had come full circle.

That’s a long way of saying I don’t have any set process for connecting with the Muse. Whether weaving or writing, I trust my intuition. I stay in dialogue with the work and the Muse. That’s not always easy but it is almost always rewarding.

I listen to dreams which have provided the seeds for two of my manuscripts and images for several of the weavings. I use the tarot for inspiration, breakthrough and creation.

I guess just whatever seems to pull at me, to have the most potential for development and depth and imagination.

If you were going to teach your creative process to someone else, what would be one or two of the key things you would share?

Conscious dream work and using the tarot.

Thanks Paula!

Since 1999, Paula’s taught writers how to use intuitive tools like dreams and tarot to write stories from the deepest part of their imaginations. She’s taught at small private workshops on the East Coast, and at both national and regional Romance Writers of America conferences and meetings, at the 2014 San Diego University Writers Conference and the International Women’s Writing Guild. She leads intimate writing and dream retreats. Paula publishes a weekly e-newsletter on writing, dreams, tarot, and is the award-winning author of Weaving a Woman’s Life: Spiritual Lessons from the Loom.

Lisa Laughy is a woodcarver and painter living in central New Hampshire. She has been carving for the last ten years after spending several decades as a designer and illustrator. Lisa’s work is primarily influenced by the early medieval Irish manuscript art best known by the Book of Kells, but other influences can be found in nature, the Stave Churches of Norway, Viking art, geometry and alchemical engravings.

Your bio mentions that you work in two mediums. Can you tell me more about how you create your art?

I am a woodcarver with a strong background in design and painting. It wasn’t until my creative work became focused on wood carving that I realized how much of the design process for my 2D work is conceptualized in relief — the criteria I use when visualizing a painting or design begins naturally in my mind as an image in low relief. I feel as if the years of designing, drawing, and painting in 2D were actually spent in preparation for working in wood, even though that was never part of my original plan. It has been a slow, steady, and seamless transition in my creative process between the two mediums, and I feel that each supports the other.

At what point in your life did you start thinking of yourself as an artist?

My two earliest memories are of birds singing (Chickadees), and drawing with pencils and crayons. I have a painting of a Robin I did when I was five years old, and my mother submitted it to a magazine — that made a big impression on my little self. As far as I can remember I have always thought of myself as an artist.

How would you describe your spirituality?

“The sole purpose of human existence is to kindle a light in the darkness of mere being.” – Carl Gustav Jung

How does your spirituality find expression in your art?

I experience my creative process as a search for meaning — which I think is how a lot of people would describe their spirituality – but I don’t consider myself to be a spiritual person. For me, meaning is best explored and understood through symbols and myths — so much of my creative process is spent attempting to communicate personal meaning using those elements.

How do you connect with divine flow when you are creating?

Coloring has become enormously popular, and many people are discovering the meditative qualities of coloring complex patterns, or doodling along the lines of Zentangles, and I think to a great extent, that is a similar process to the ‘flow’ I experience when I am absorbed in creating a design, or focused on a carving. It is a kind of timelessness, a side-step from the usual experience of physical time, and it is an enormously relaxing and regenerative process.

How do ideas come to you?

I read a lot — especially about history, mathematics, science, and psychology. I look at a wide range of artwork and art history books. I look at nature, and pattern, and color. I use those elements as a filter for the thoughts and whatever else is churning around inside my head, and try to find a way to project something outward that captures some sense of meaning for what is going on for me. As an example: I recently bought a small chunk of interesting wood — wormy butternut — I knew I wanted to make a carved bowl, but this wood was riddled with worm holes. So I thought — what is a bowl with holes? A sieve! And then I thought — yeah, my brain has been like a sieve lately, I can’t seem to remember anything. This led me to the idea of carving a bowl with holes with a brain-like texture on the outside, to represent the frustration I have been feeling about my poor memory skills.

How do you decide which ideas to pursue?

I keep lots of notebooks and sketchbooks to capture ideas as they come to me — sometimes I am just making a quick sketch, or writing down a quote, or a note to follow up on an idea. Other times I am doodling to see what comes out. There are always ideas that have more immediate appeal than others, that seem to need the most attention at the time, or are more compelling in one way or another, and these are the things I work on first. But I often go back to those rough sketches at a later date and expand or adapt them. I feel like creative ideas set their own priority — what doesn’t emerge initially as an overly compelling idea often becomes something worth pursuing at another time.

If you were going to teach your creative process to someone else, what would be one or two of the key things you would share?

I think a lot of people feel that there is a great deal of mystery about the creative process, but it is helpful to remember that the more time you spend working at something the better you get — you will definitely improve as you go along. A large part of creativity is based in skill, and this is something that can always be improved through practice and learning. The aspect of the creative process that is more elusive is the internal aspect — the most important part of working creatively is what you as an individual bring to the process you practice.

Richard Stone is a visual artist, photographer, storyteller, and writer of both fiction and non-fiction. His creative career also includes working with IDEAS, a former division of Disney, as their StoryAnalytics Master. His work spans many media, from works on paper to acrylic on canvas to macro-photography. His writing includes a focus on storytelling, a children’s novel, and he is currently working on a new screenplay entitled “The Maggid.”

Your bio mentions that you work in 4 medium(s). Can you tell me more about how you create your art?

For the past 4 years, I have focused on macro photography of trees’ bark. I do all of my composition in the camera, rarely cropping images after they are taken, shooting RAW. Processing the images is fairly straightforward. I start out in Adobe Lightroom and do some simple adjustments to the image adjusting the exposure if needed. I then use the NIK software suite to do some sharpening, and some minor improvement of the color saturation.

My preference is to print these images large—4’ x 5’ or even larger. There is something very exciting to see what was a 2” x 2” section of a tree enlarged to those sizes—very abstract.

In the past I have done a great deal of work using oil pastels on paper—building up images with multiple layers and then using tools to scrape into the surface to reveal earlier layers.

Have also done a great deal of brush and ink drawings—mostly abstract figurative. I’ve extended this approach by using brushes like brooms to paint abstractly on large sheets of paper, then have selectively have torn or cut out sections of the paper, cut the same shapes out of a piece of black foam core, and then married that with another image on the backside of the foam core creating an interesting effect dimensionally.

Finally, have done a number of large works on canvas depicting leaves. The method—lay the canvas on the floor, and then using ketchup bottles filled with house paint (preferably semi-gloss). I compose by squeezing the paint onto the canvas.

At what point in your life did you start thinking of yourself as an artist?

In my early 20s. I dropped out of graduate school in psychology after I had completed my master’s degree and took myself off to the Art Institute of Chicago.

How would you describe your spirituality?

Probably more Buddhist at moment, but still am engaged with Judaism—more through its storytelling tradition.

How does your spirituality find expression in your art?

For me, the process of photographing a tree is a profound experience that brings me deeply into communion with this other being, joyfully becoming a witness to its beauty.

Can you share a story of how creating your art expanded your awareness of God?

Martin Buber talks about 2 kinds of relationships we can have with the world. I-It in which the world has utilitarian value for us; and I-Thou, in which we meet the other as a sacred being and as it is. For me this is what photographing trees does for me. And every encounter in this way is for me a profound experience of the mystery of this life.

How do you connect with divine flow when you are creating? Is it an intentional process that you can duplicate?

Attending to small details often is what takes me into this kind of flow. It’s just about attention outside of myself.

How do you connect differently to your creative source when you work solo versus when you are collaborating with others?

I have collaborated for years on a host of creative projects as a writer, having written a screenplay and a sitcom with some friends. The collaborative process proved to be great fun, and a profound act of letting go of any attachment to anything. If one of us didn’t like something the other came up with it was immediately dropped until we could find something that we all could agree was funny—produced a better script I think.

In contrast I’m working on a screenplay right now solo—I think not until I get some others to read it will I know whether I hit the mark or need to go back to the drawing board.

How do ideas come to you?

Little things often set them off. I was driving one day and stopped at a light and there was a big clump of pampas grass in the median. I immediately imagined that it was the hair of a creature whose head was just under the surface. That led me to imagine that all the trees are actually the tops of the heads of large creatures that became known as Treemungermen—the key characters in an eco-spiritual children’s novel entitled The Kingdom of Nowt.

How do you decide which ideas to pursue?

If it’s something that I become somewhat obsessed about and think about all the time, then I pursue it.

If you were going to teach your creative process to someone else, what would be one or two of the key things you would share?

Find your own voice—and I mean that for writing as well as the visual arts. And lead with your heart not your head. Things that are intellectually interesting but lacking heart rarely reach an aesthetic threshold in my book, and don’t move people.

Artist Denise Trach has many facets to her life. In addition to creating art, Denise teaches AP Literature, Creative Writing, College Reading & Writing, and English at Carmel High School and is mom to two daughters. She says, “I finally found a label that I love: artist. I’ve created two lovely daughters, an amazing teacher career, a rewarding writing life, and a painting poetry experience. I use painting as a means of meditation, and doing so has brought so much peace to my life. Discovering this passion has been a blessing.”

We caught up with Denise recently and asked her a few questions about her art and how it intertwines with her spirituality. Here is what she had to say:

At what point in your life did you start thinking of yourself as an artist?

Honestly, as a writer my entire life, I’ve always considered myself an artist. Last November, however, when I started to sell my paintings did I begin to consider myself a visual artist as well.

How would you describe your spirituality?

Ever-evolving. I am always searching—myself, others, the world. I feel that it is nothing finite and everything infinite.

How does your spirituality find expression in your art?

My art IS my spirituality manifested visually. Because I cannot find it within myself to sit in meditation, I use zentangling and painting as a form of meditation and as a connectedness to others.

How do you connect with divine flow when you are creating? Is it an intentional process that you can duplicate?

This is a lovely gift for me; it simply comes when I put my intention on the work at hand. This flow keeps me present; THIS is my mindfulness at its best.

How do ideas come to you?

Sometimes ideas are triggered by conversations with people and their experiences and pain/happiness. Sometimes the ideas are a discussion with other artists. Mostly, though, I just follow my thought through my hand. And then I am at peace.

If you were going to teach your creative process to someone else, what would be one or two of the key things you would share?

I actually teach this process to my students. Several of the students that I teach suffer from terrible anxiety, so we often take a break from the literature and writing to simply connect back to ourselves through zentangling. I keep pages in our classroom for students to use when they are feeling especially disconnected or there is too much “noise.”

Poet Aarti Nayar is a mother of two and an instructor of ESL (English as Second Language) at Gwinnett Technical College in the department of adult education. In addition to poetry, Aarti writes for children, has been published in the Indian monthly publication Khabar, and is an active contributor to The Titan View, Northview High School’s monthly newsletter.

How do you create your poetry?

Writing a poem, to me, is akin to creating a painting where the subject is my emotion(s) of the moment and the art is a depiction of it in words.

At what point in your life did you start thinking of yourself as an artist?

Over the years, as I wrote both poetry and prose it helped me realize my ability to create something that was both meaningful and beautiful and spoke to my need to speak my mind about the situation on hand. The beauty came from my endless quest to find the perfect synonym, the perfect simile, or metaphor to describe the thought swirling in my head, much in the same way as any other artist (painter, sculptor, chef) would toil to perfect his creation. In that sense I have thought of myself as an artist ever since my association with the writing process.

How would you describe your spirituality?

I believe in the presence of a higher power and feel inspired by the religion of humanity.

How does your spirituality find expression in your art?

My poems encompass the spectrum of human existence, from politics and war, to nature and beauty, and in general to the mystical and the mysterious in all things around. While very diverse in their subject matter they all resonate with an underlying feel for the human condition and its limitlessly universal appeal.

Can you share a story of how creating your art expanded your awareness of God?

Be it a poem on a moonlit night, or the haunting magic of trees, or the spectacle of falling leaves, the death of a solder or the devastation of the tsunami, one is endlessly examining, at very close quarters, the different manifestations of life. In the throes of this introspection, what you start to see is the grand scale of the forces at play and inadvertently a sense of your own bit space. One understands very quickly that one is but a cog in the wheel that is designed to move with or without you. For me personally, that is the definition of god and in doing what I do I’m forever aware of his presence.

How do you connect with divine flow when you are creating? Is it an intentional process that you can duplicate?

As I write a poem, I start from taking a broader, magnified view and narrow it to the finer, situational view. In doing this I feel like I’m on a journey that takes me around the different vistas of life, visiting and verifying what I need until finally it’s time for me to get off at my destination. While on this journey I feel like I’m connected to, as you call it, the divine flow, as if I see the intrinsic circuitry of life and understand its enduring inter-connectedness.

While not intentional, it’s certainly intuitive and is what I experience as I create my poems.

How do you connect differently to your creative source when you work solo versus when you are collaborating with others?

My book of poems, Eggshells of the Soul is a collaborative work of six poets including myself. While the book is a shared collection, the poems in it are very much each poet’s personal expression.

How do ideas come to you?

I think it’s all about how you are perceiving the world around you at any given moment. In a sense each perception could potentially be a trigger for a poem. Sometimes three or four ideas come to me just in listening to the news or reading an article or from a bit from a conversation I might have had a week ago or simply from the sights and sounds around me.

How do you decide which ideas to pursue?

Over the years I have learned not to rate ideas or judge them as worthy of perusal. Writing a poem is the device by which I explore the trigger. While I may go into it having one thought, many a times what follows is something entirely different from the original sentiment. There are times when I myself am surprised by the chain of thoughts and the climax that they lead me to. What I see at the start and what I conclude with at the end of my poetic examination could be completely unexpected and radical.

If you were going to teach your creative process to someone else, what would be one or two of the key things you would share?

I would strongly recommend that the individual be in tune with himself, with the things that stay in his heart and those that don’t. Live your life in the big moments but more importantly live it in its smaller, everyday ones. I guess it would be fair to say that being an active participant of your life is critical. The phrase, live life to its fullest, while a cliché, is certainly a necessary requirement. It is where you get the inspiration from. Additionally be a lover of your language. It is from scouring its depths that you can find that perfect metaphor that will season your poem much like a cook seasons his dish. As we know, when it comes to seasoning, all one needs is a dash of this and a pinch of that.

I think that both are intrinsically related and affect the other spontaneously. That said I do think that who you are and the leanings of your spirit will color the way you approach your art. What you choose to advance with it or choose to take-away from it is also a function of the state of your spirituality. In that sense my spiritual evolution has constantly informed the choices I make with my art.

Jodi Hersh’s passion for art dictates her attitude toward life — her devotion to her work, her thriving and award-winning studio Orange Star Design. As an artist, Jodi experiments with abstract and pinhole photography and mixed-media, often combining words and images. She frequently explores different and sometimes unusual techniques, combining old processes with new technology.

Jodi earned her BFA from the University of Michigan School of Art & Design and she is the founder of Orange Star Design, Inc. and Live Love Dogs™. When not in her studio, Jodi can usually be found being walked by her dogs.

Can you tell us more about how you create your art?

I’ve always had a strong urge to make things and I like to experiment. As a result, I have several seemingly disparate bodies of work that I jump between. I think I am best known for my long-running and ongoing series of abstract photographs which I call Sorealism. These are photographs of my environment and are often mistaken for abstract expressionist paintings. There is extraordinary in the mundane — if you look closely enough, everyday sights that wouldn’t ordinarily be considered attractive or engaging can suddenly be transformed into art. These images are not staged or manipulated. They are photographs of what we see and ignore daily… resurrected as art.

As an artist, I’m always observing and making notes of areas I’d like to shoot. Usually, I shoot close-ups of things found in the urban environment, composing my images in the camera. I’m drawn to weathered typography and graphics — things like old posters and flyers, remnants of signs and billboards — perhaps it is the graphic designer in me. I do very little to these images in Photoshop — most often just contrast and color adjustments. I like to print them quite large (24×36 and bigger) and flush mount them to frames I custom build. I hand paint a matte gel medium over the surface for protection and effect. I like the concept of enlarging a very small piece of something to a grander scale — it’s amazingly transformative.

Pinhole photography is another of my fascinations. I make my own pinhole cameras out of all sorts of containers but I really like using Altoids tins. They make really wide angle images and it’s easy to carry a lot of them around. I use BW photo paper as negatives, and load about 50-100 of them in the darkroom and carry them with me when I go shooting. There is only one shot per tin. I don’t like using changing bags in the field, so I carry a sack of them with me and keep shooting until I’ve used them all. The paper negatives are processed in my darkroom, and then scanned and inverted to positive on computer. It’s a pretty hit or miss process, and some of my favorite images have been “happy accidents.”

Solargraphy is another form of pinhole photography that I’ve been exploring. Exposures may be from days to months to years and will capture the arc of the sun throughout the course of the exposure. The craziest part about it is that it requires no chemical processing. Over time a latent negative image simply appears on the paper.

On the mixed-media front, I’m all over the place. I like to combine photography and painting. I also like to write, so sometimes I combine all three. Inspired by the “Newspaper Blackout” poems of Steal Like an Artist author Austin Kleon, I started my own series of “Stolen” blackout poems as an exercise to get me writing. It’s been highly addictive and the resulting text is starting to creep into my mixed media works.

All that being said, it would not be too surprising to find me making a mess trying to create something out of concrete, paint, a propane torch, power tools and wood in my studio.

At what point in your life did you start thinking of yourself as an artist?

I was very young, maybe 8 or 9. I’ve always been driven to create. From a young age, I could draw very well. As soon as my parents recognized it, they enrolled me in after school art classes. I learned to work with charcoal, pastels, pencil, pen & ink, colored inks and oil painting. At home I occupied myself with anything I could find in my Dad’s garage — hammer, nails, handsaw — anything I could use to “make things.”

How would you describe your spirituality?

I’m all about learning, inspiring, improving, and creating. I think everything is connected and we are the sum of our thoughts and actions and everything we consume. I try to be authentic, positive and kind. I find positive energy creates more positivity and negativity has negative impact. Quality in, quality out.

How does your spirituality find expression in your art?

I think there is an underlying authenticity in all that I do and create, but it’s not something I think about.

How do you connect with divine flow when you are creating? Is it an intentional process that you can duplicate?

I simply refer to it as “flow.” Writers write, artists create. It is a discipline. I don’t believe in the muse — I keep my tank full of inspiration by surrounding myself with positive people, quality art, writing, music, etc. and I work at my craft in some way every day. The hardest part is to start — but once you start, it begins to flow. It can be like a time vortex and before you know it, many hours have passed. It’s like that old children’s stop-motion animated Christmas special — just put one foot in front of the other and soon you’ll be walking ‘cross the floor…

How do you connect differently to your creative source when you work solo versus when you are collaborating with others?

I like to talk ideas and show and tell with others, but I create solo. Collaborating with others to develop ideas is fun and exciting and can result in something I may not have come to on my own. It doesn’t work with just anyone, though, there has to be a connection. I have enjoyed co-writing collaboratively through a process of passing the work back and forth with someone. Perhaps I will try this with something visual sometime.

How do ideas come to you?

Usually while driving or taking a walk… during times when my mind is free to wander. I’m always consuming and absorbing good music, writing, art, design, and ideas… so there is almost always something simmering in my subconscious creative mind. Things seem to bubble up in the empty moments when I’m not trying to actually do something else. It’s important to unplug and decompress and let ideas float up to the top.

How do you decide which ideas to pursue?

I really don’t. I just start and see where it goes. I usually start with whatever my most persistent recurring thought or idea has been…I enjoy the process of making things, so even if something doesn’t work or turn out the way I’d hoped, I usually end up learning something, or with a happy accident, or a funny story… and often a big mess to clean up.

If you were going to teach your creative process to someone else, what would be one or two of the key things you would share?

Honestly, to keep at it. Work on whatever your craft is consistently. Stay primed by surrounding yourself with inspiring people, art, music, books, etc. If you find an artist whose work you like, learn what you can from them. Emulate them. Master their technique. Adapt it to suit you. Inevitably, it will become uniquely your own because you can’t help but bring to it your own sensibilities and all that you have experienced up until now.

Rassouli is a mystic artist who has come to the attention of the international art world in recent years. What makes his art so unique is the way he translates spiritual experience from his subconscious onto canvas through meditation. With vibrant hues, Rassouli produces joyful color blends and circular brushwork that distinguishes his painting technique, which he defines as Fusionart, a style derived from mysticism, near-eastern spirituality, and a foundation in European painting technology.

Can you tell me more about how you create your art?

I usually begin a painting on a black canvas, starting with acrylic paints. I then keep on playing and playing until images that I like begin to show up. From then on, I use oils to edit the images and complete the painting.

At what point in your life did you start thinking of yourself as an artist?

I began to paint from early childhood. During the college years, I studied fine arts, but continued to receive a Master’s Degree in architecture due to the notion that it would be difficult to make a living as an artist. After practicing architecture for 15 years, I finally followed the love of my heart and became a full time artist. I was 45 years old then.

How would you describe your spirituality?

As a child, I grow up in a family of mystics. My uncle was a Sufi mystic and he was the one who introduced me to the spiritual realm. My nursery rhymes were then poetry of Hafiz, Rumi and Kabir. My entire life has been connected directly with mysticism.

How does your spirituality find expression in your art?

When I begin a painting, I have no idea about what I’m going to create. I surrender to the power that is guiding me from within my heart. My images are not taken from reality. They are spirits of the physical realm.

Can you share a story of how creating your art expanded your awareness of God?

Every painting of mine reflects the Divine Power. It is the power that drives from within, not a God who is somewhere out there in the heavens and gets pissed all the time. Every canvas is a story of my connection with the Divine Energy.

How do you connect with divine flow when you are creating?

My connection with the Divine begins with destruction. I eliminate whatever blocks my getting into the flow. My achievement is when I have become a “Block-buster.”

How do you connect differently to your creative source when you work solo versus when you are collaborating with others?

They are two completely different processes. When I paint alone in my studio, I am surrendering to my heart. When I paint with the group, I surrender to the energy of the group. Their energy guides me!

How do ideas come to you?

I do not start a painting with sketches, I do not paint on location and I do not work from photos. Instead, many mornings, before the dawn, I climb a mountain to its peak. There, sitting in solitude, I observe rising of the sun. I watch plants open their leaves, buds tear up their dresses and birds sing to the arrival of their creator. There is an interconnected serenity that allows all creatures to experience the divine unity.

Having felt that creative energy, I rush to my studio, dip my brush into paint, and let it move freely on canvas.

How do you decide which ideas to pursue?

When the canvas is covered with paint, I sit down several feet away from it and look at the canvas for as long of the time as it needs to see images showing up in the colors. If I don’t find any image, I keep on turning the canvas around and around until I find what images attract me. I pursue developing the images, but most of the time, even that image transforms to new ones.

If you were going to teach your creative process to someone else, what would be one or two of the key things you would share?

Two key ideas that I am teaching emerging artists are:

Do not ever try to make a painting. Just play on the canvas until you are done.

Do not impose your ideas to the canvas. Treat it as if you are making love with the canvas. Let the canvas guide you rather than forcing your ideas on it.

My art is about unity. I call it Fusionart. It is the art that is the opposite of so called “…ism.” In my paintings, I fuse the opposites together. I cannot distinguish if my life has affected my art or the reverse.

How can our readers find out more about you and your work?

Just google “Rassouli” and you will be able to see many sites reflecting my art, or type in “Rassouli” on YouTube and watch many videos. My official web site is www.Rassouli.com and the gallery that feature my art is: www.AvatarFineArts.com

I’m Wes Molebash and I draw cartoons. I’ve wanted to be a cartoonist for as long as I can remember, and I’ve been actively chasing this dream for over ten years, now. I live in southern Ohio with my wife, Kari, and our son, Parker.

My work is a blend of traditional and digital elements. I draw and ink most everything by hand, and then I scan the black-and-white art into Photoshop to apply color. I use a Wacom Cintiq 12WX when working digitally.

At what point in your life did you start thinking of yourself as an artist?

When I was in 6th grade, some artists came to our school to discuss creativity and art with our class. I remember someone asked, “How do you know when you’re an artist?” and one of the presenters responded with, “You’re an artist when you say you’re an artist.”

I looked at my friend sitting next to me and said, “I’m an artist.” The artists must’ve overheard me, because one of them looked at me and said, “YEAH!”

So that was the moment.

How would you describe your spirituality?

I’m a Christian and my faith is very important to me. I hesitate to say I’m “devout” because I think that makes me sound more pious than I really am. But my faith is a huge influence in all areas of my life.

How does your spirituality find expression in your art?

My faith has been expressed in different ways in my art. For the past ten years I’ve been drawing comic strips, and—for the most part—the cartoons were your typical slice-of-life fare; nothing overtly Christian about them. However, I just ended a comic strip that was commentary on the Christian subculture, so my faith wasn’t as subversive as it was in my previous work. I’m tilting back the other way with my current projects, though.

I believe that whatever your values are, they will be expressed in your work whether you want them to or not. Whether you’re a Christian or a Muslim or Hindu or atheist, that stuff is gonna come out in your work. Don’t force it. It’ll be better that way.

In all my work, I’ve never tried to evangelize. That’s never been a priority. Honesty is a priority. I wish it was more of a priority for other “Christian” artists. Maybe we wouldn’t have as much schlocky “Christian” art clogging up the marketplace.

Can you share a story of how creating your art expanded your awareness of God?

I don’t have a specific story, but I think that being an artist affects my faith in God. I’m a pretty abstract thinker and I have a wild imagination (as most creatives do), and I think that these traits make it easier for me to believe in God. I don’t think I have an unintelligent faith, but I do believe that my vivid imagination has caused me not to struggle with certain aspects of God that others might find unbelievable or even reprehensible.

How do you connect with divine flow when you are creating?

I don’t really experience a divine connection while I’m creating. I think a lot while I’m drawing. Sometimes I think about God. Sometimes I think about what we’re gonna have for dinner. Most of the time I’m thinking about the work.

How do you connect differently to your creative source when you work solo versus when you are collaborating with others?

It’s definitely more fun and rewarding to work alone. Working alone means I’m working on one of my ideas, and I like my ideas the best.

How do ideas come to you?

Ideas come whenever they feel like it. The trick is learning how to harness them. Sometimes ideas come when you need to be focusing on other things, so you gotta learn how to hold on to an idea and mentally stick it in your back pocket until the appropriate times comes to work on it. I’m getting better at this, but I’m not great.

How do you decide which ideas to pursue?

I just “know.” I’ll be driving down the road and a fun idea will enter my brain and I can’t get rid of it. It starts rolling around in my head and becomes a huge distraction. I’ll write it down and—if I’m still excited about it a day or two later—then I know it’s got legs.

If you were going to teach your creative process to someone else, what would be one or two of the key things you would share?

NUMBER ONE: Listen to lots of great music; all different genres. So many stories can be developed by simply listening to a song. Music plays such a vital role in my ideation process. You gotta have good jams. It’s imperative.

NUMBER TWO: Do the work! Quit second-guessing yourself! Set a schedule and a timeline and get the work done! There will always be someone better than you! There will always be someone with more success than you! Don’t let that stop you!

Artist Roger Hutchison is Canon for Children’s Ministries at Trinity Episcopal Cathedral in Columbia, SC. In his vocation, he has been privileged to gather around the Painting Table with those experiencing grief in a diverse variety of ways—everything from temporary housing, drug addiction, job loss, and poverty to the challenges and blessings of childhood and the elderly.

Your bio mentions that you are an artist that paints with his hands. Can you tell me more about how you create your art?

Late one evening, after my family had gone to bed, I found myself sitting at my Grandmother’s old kitchen table, which we had stored upstairs in our home after she died.

I had been working on a painting for several evenings, and was getting more frustrated with it—and with myself. In a reactive—and what I now know was a moment of grace— I took my brushes, threw them into the trash and thrust my hands into the paint. I discovered what could only be described as a holy joy when I moved my fingers through the puddles of color and across the canvas. I was surprised—and blessed—by the conversation that followed. This experience of painting as prayer continued deep into the night and changed the trajectory of my life forever.

I am now an artist who paints only with my fingers.

What was ordinary became extraordinary. The same simple oak table where my Grandmother would serve us delicious meals from her garden was now my painting table . . . an altar of remembrance and healing, baptized with splashes of color and tears.

At what point in your life did you start thinking of yourself as an artist?

I am not really sure. I am still uncomfortable with that title.

How does your spirituality find expression in your art?

I am an artist. I find joy when I move my paint-covered fingers across a blank canvas that sits atop my painting table. This is the place where I go to pray. This is the place where I go to listen with my heart. This is the place where the fullness of my life settles down and I can “pay attention” to that still small voice.

Can you share a story of how creating your art expanded your awareness of God?

I was invited to travel to Newtown and Sandy Hook, Connecticut in May 2013 to paint with the children, families, and teachers at Trinity Episcopal Church in Newtown.

A third-grade girl told me she’d had a really bad day. Her painting was dark and frantic. I listened to her for a little while—then encouraged her to paint another one. The second painting was a bit more colorful. She took her two paintings and smashed them together. When she pulled them apart, the darkness had lifted . . . and she smiled. That’s when I saw light and love in her face.

I saw God.

How do you connect with divine flow when you are creating? Is it an intentional process that you can duplicate?

Painting is the way I talk to God. I find joy when I move my fingers through puddles of color and across blank canvas. I am always surprised—and blessed—by the conversation that takes place. It is never the same.

How do ideas come to you?

I approach painting as a form of prayer. I sit at my painting table for a while in silence—listening for that “still small voice.” I then begin to select my colors and enter into the process of translating my prayers into paintings. I never know what the outcome will be.

I am not a professionally trained artist. I did take a class or two in college, but I am mostly self-taught. I had tried painting with brushes, but they got in the way. Now I paint with my hands.

Simply put—I cherish the life I have been given and I searched a long time for a way to say thank you. When I sit at the painting table, I find that I am able to dothis in a way that can only be described as holy.

How do you decide which ideas to pursue?

I never begin a painting with a plan. I let the colors . . . and the silence guide me.

If you were going to teach your creative process to someone else, what would be one or two of the key things you would share?

My painting table is an actual table, but the idea of the Painting Table is more than a wooden top with four legs. It is about the invitation. It is about our sharing our own sacred stories. It is a safe and holy space where conversation, prayer, and healing can take place. The canvas, paper, and other assorted art supplies are the simple tools that help bring us together.

You do not need any artistic experience or training to be a part of the Painting Table. It is not about what your final creation looks like. It is about the transformation that takes place when you sit with others around a table for a period of time—creating, sharing, dreaming, and praying—together. And it can certainly be done in solitude, all by yourself.

It is about what happens in your heart and in your soul.

Roger, thanks for sharing your art and your heart!

Roger’s book The Painting Table: A Journal of Loss and Joy was released December 1, 2013 from Church Publishing, Inc. Find out more about Roger and his work at http://www.thepaintingtable.com.

Writer, Doodler, and Love Warrior—that’s how J. Clement Wall describes herself. Her mission statement is to make art, do work, and engage in shenanigans that inspire fearless love, soulful evolution, and wild creativity as a way of life.

I’m thrilled to have connected with J and I’m excited to share her with you!

At what point in your life did you start thinking of yourself as an artist?

Honestly, I still struggle a little with that term, and before that I struggled with when I could call myself “a writer.” (Was it after I got my degree, after I’d been published, after I’d landed my first writing gig?) Somewhere along the way, I started thinking of myself as a creative, and that feels right to me, less a title to be earned and more a state of being. I create incessantly. It isn’t something I have to fit in or make time for; it’s like eating and sleeping. If I go too long without making something I start to wither.

How would you describe your spirituality?

Soulful. Grounded. Evolving. I believe that whatever divinity exists, it exists inside each of us, which is an exhilarating and sometimes scary sort of faith. In the midst of all the violence and cruelty in this world, believing in the basic goodness of humanity takes a certain doggedness… and practice… like all religions do.

How does your spirituality find expression in your art?

I think for me it might be the other way around; my art is an expression of my spirituality, a celebration of life and love.

How do you connect with divine flow when you are creating? Is it an intentional process that you can duplicate?

I think I (and all artists) connect to the divine flow every time we sit down and do the work, because really, what is more divine than the act of creation?

How do ideas come to you?

Ideas come from everywhere—news items, tweets, Facebook updates, Pinterest, nature, the work of other artists and writers, the words of a song, overheard conversations, my dog.

I am easily inspired.

How do you decide which ideas to pursue?

I pursue the ideas that won’t let go of me. I’ve found the tenaciousness of an idea doesn’t always guarantee its success, but it does guarantee I’ll stay enthused through completion.

I think they go hand in hand. In my art and in my spiritual practice, I spend most of my time not knowing the answers. I’m learning more and more to trust the process, to lean into my uncertainty and be open to surprise because that’s where all the growth happens.

Find out more about J and her work at www.judyclementwall.com. Visit her Etsy shop for note cards, prints, and more featuring her inspirational doodles. She says, “I spent all of 2011 publicly committed to fearless love. For one year, I loved wildly out of my comfort zone. It was exhilarating, surprising, and scary. It was everything I never imagined, and it changed my life. I wrote about it in a collection of essays you can download here.”